


Oeuvre

by kenzimone



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gen, backdated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-26
Updated: 2008-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzimone/pseuds/kenzimone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Archie goes to sleep and doesn't remember waking up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oeuvre

**Author's Note:**

> Very AU, very cracktastic. Based on the [Top 6 Ford music video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJTJ_PkydS8), which I strongly recommend you watch before reading this.

Sometimes Archie goes to sleep and doesn't remember waking up.

Closes his eyes for _just a second_ , and then the world comes alight with fire. Cook has always liked to make a grand entrance - fire and brimstone and the surreal sound of oxygen being devoured by vacuum. It's almost the norm now, yet Archie always flinches in surprise, and Cook always laughs in delight.

Only, not today. He's on a mission today, Archie can tell.

Cook points to the desk by the wall. 'You can't let them catch us,' he says.

Archie turns, looks at the mess of papers littering his desk. Blank white sheets, ink smudges in the corners, but still - blank. There's nothing there.

He frowns, confused - looks back, but Cook's suddenly _right there_ , right in his face, red pupil fixed on Archie or maybe something beyond, something Archie can't see.

'You _can't_ let them catch us,' Cook repeats, and Archie doesn't understand.

'I won't,' he says anyway, because terror is roaring his in ears and the flames licking at Cook's shoulders are suddenly burning hot. And then he holds his breath and tries to not look away as Cook stares wide eyed at him for another few moments.

And then it's all gone, all the fire and heat and the smell of ashes lingering in the air - Archie's alone again, leaning against his desk, heart hammering wildly in his chest.

And he closes his eyes and awaits his next visitor.

Because they always come in pairs, nowadays. In the beginning it was... different. One popped up now and again, but there was no agenda, no mission. Just... just visits to see what was in store, moments to pick Archie's brain a little, to plan ahead.

Harmless.

He doesn't know where he went wrong. The only thing he knows is that he _did_ , and now he's not sure who is paying for it.

The temperature's dropping. Archie can feel the tendrils of ice brushing against his skin, and when he opens his eyes there is _nothing_. Just darkness. He shivers.

Castro doesn't do grand entrances. Doesn't do fireworks or light play, not like Cook. Instead he simply melds into place - where there was shadow Archie's eyes now think themselves able to see the outline of a being.

This is Castro's entrance; coldness and darkness, and in Archie's mind he can hear the sound of people screaming as a semblance of light falls over Castro's face as he steps forward.

'He's mine', Castro says, black smoke curling around him, and Archie thinks _'No, no, he's not - you're both_ mine _'_.

Because they _are_. They're Archie's - or at least they were in the beginning, back when there was only Archie and his ink and paper and the wonderful things he drew. His creations, his darlings, his adventures.

Castro cocks his head to the left, eyes unblinking, and smiles a velvet smile. The markings running down his chin to his throat seem to drip like black blood. For just a moment, Archie wonders if perhaps his thoughts might as well have been spoken out loud.

'He _is_ mine, they all are,' Castro says, wisps of smoke coiling around his dreads like snakes. 'And now, you're going to give them to me.'

He points to Archie's desk, a near perfect mimic of Cook only moments before, and Archie turns and trails his fingertips over pages and pages of drawings he doesn't remember making. There's death and disaster in the ink, and for a moment he feels light headed, because this is not his doing.

'Oh, but it _is_ ,' Castro says from behind him as the smoke gently envelope them both. 'Finish it.'

Archie gags, because he realizes Castro was right - this isn't his anymore. He might have set the ball in motion, but somewhere along the line his creations grew into their own. He wonders if perhaps they're playing a bigger game, if this is all beyond his understanding.

And so he takes a pen and does what he is told, and in the corner of his eye he can see Castro smile blindingly white.

When he blinks, he's alone again. Sweating and shaking, but alone. His fingers are black with ink and his pajama top is splotched and ruined, and before him on his desk lie papers depicting only death and smoke and Castro.

  



End file.
